


all in life i ever do

by louciferish



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Anniversary, Family Feels, Fluff, Growing Old Together, IMMORTAL MAKKACHIN, Implied old man sex, M/M, Mars, Minor Injuries, Old Married Couple, Post-Canon, Science Fiction, Victuuri 50th Wedding Anniversary, but also saps in love forever, the harsh realities of aging
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-19
Updated: 2020-01-19
Packaged: 2021-02-27 15:21:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,843
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22319305
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/louciferish/pseuds/louciferish
Summary: When they’d first discussed relocation, it had been with an online catalogue of options. They’d flipped through it on a tablet, curled on the sofa with Makkachin between and the screen propped up on her fluffy back. The Terra Sirenum colony in the south of Mars was far too hot. St. Petersburg and Detroit were both too far from Hasetsu, where Mari and Yuuko would both be staying, but then Japan was too distant from the Lunar colonies, where the Nishigori triplets now lived.The Mars colony had been one of the first post-Terra settlements established in the 2030’s, and it’s long since fallen out of fashion among the elite, who prefer to travel on to wider, more sparkling galaxies, but Victor’s fingers had lingered on the screen when they reached a page about the Polar Hood.“Mars has ice, you know,” he said. Between them, Makka’s tail thumped against the sofa, and Yuuri smiled.50 years post-canon, Victor and Yuuri celebrate their golden anniversary in a new home, but with all the same old friends
Relationships: Katsuki Yuuri/Victor Nikiforov, Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Comments: 37
Kudos: 83
Collections: Chihohohoko 2020: Victor’s 30th birthday exchange





	all in life i ever do

**Author's Note:**

  * For [PaintingWithWords (paint_with_words)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/paint_with_words/gifts).



> Merry (late) Christmas, Anne!
> 
> Yes, I literally looked you in the face with this sitting on my Google Drive. And then beta'd your fic. XD 
> 
> You said "old married Victuuri" but you also said Sci-Fi and my brain said whynotboth.jpeg
> 
> I constantly operate under the assumption that if YOI canon is a world without homophobia, that means it's also a better world in various other ways, and for this story I've decided they're _also_ better with climate change and alternatives for humanity to include space exploration XD Just... just go with it...
> 
> Title is from the song "I Want to Spend My Lifetime Loving You"

Mars has ice.

Yuuri can still remember when that was a new discovery, something that had people across the world in flurry, because ice meant _water_ , and water could mean _life_. For Yuuri and Victor especially, ice meant life in a thousand different ways. 

When they’d first discussed relocation, it had been with an online catalogue of options. They’d flipped through it on a tablet, curled on the sofa with Makkachin between and the screen propped up on her fluffy back. The Terra Sirenum colony in the south of Mars was far too hot. St. Petersburg and Detroit were both too far from Hasetsu, where Mari and Yuuko would both be staying, but then Japan was too distant from the Lunar colonies, where the Nishigori triplets now lived. 

The Mars colony had been one of the first post-Terra settlements established in the 2030’s, and it’s long since fallen out of fashion among the elite, who prefer to travel on to wider, more sparkling galaxies, but Victor’s fingers had lingered on the screen when they reached a page about the Polar Hood. 

“Mars has ice, you know,” he said. Between them, Makka’s tail thumped against the sofa, and Yuuri smiled.

It’s a silly thing to base their choice on. Yuuri and Victor have both been retired for decades. It’s been nearly twenty years since the last time one of them so much as appeared in an ice show, and the only reason most skaters these days know the name Katsuki-Nikiforov is due to the infamously difficult Katsuki-Nikiforov style of spin entry. 

Still, that doesn’t mean they’ve stopped skating. The ice has meant too much for them to simply let it go. 

-

Yuuri wakes slowly, as one can when the bed is comfortable and there’s nowhere to be. A retired life, without alarms, lessons to teach, or practices to attend, suits him just fine. Though he still finds things to worry about, he rarely has trouble sleeping anymore. 

Slitting his eyes open, Yuuri finds himself up close and personal with a very familiar view—the back of Victor’s silvery-white head resting on their baby blue pillows. The two of them are spooned together from head to hip, Yuuri’s arm curled over Victor’s waist, and their legs have splayed in opposite directions to create a space for Makka and Mochi to cuddle up between them. 

Where his shoulders have emerged from the sheets, Yuuri’s skin prickles at the cold, recycled air of the colony. The chill makes him think of winter, then of Christmas, which back on Earth isn’t too far off. Yuuri tries not to think too hard about the time differences between the various planets and moons. Thankfully, he has computers to track them on his behalf.

Victor inhales deeply, then coughs in his sleep—a light, raspy thing that barely moves Yuuri’s arm around him, but nevertheless causes Yuuri to tense and bite his lip. Victor’s been to the doctor, and they were assured this is nothing more than a common cold, but Yuuri worries more each day that the cough lingers, and he holds Victor tighter. This Christmas, Victor will be seventy-eight, and though the two of them both still get around quite well in spite of past injuries—thanks, in part, to the lessened gravity of Mars—neither of them heals as quickly as they used to.

At the foot of the bed, Makka raises her curly head, whining softly as she picks up on Yuuri’s worry, and he shushes her. As always, anxiety makes Yuuri want to move, to get up and do something physical in order to shake his focus from his woes.

Luckily for him, Mars has ice.

He scoots up to press a brief kiss to Victor’s bald spot, something his husband rarely lets him get away with while he’s awake, and then slips from the bed, sliding his feet into the slippers waiting nearby. He levers himself up using the headboard for assistance and rolls his shoulders, stretching himself out. As he shuffles past the end of the bed, Mochi hops down onto the floor, his little black tail wagging as he trots into the kitchen ahead of Yuuri while Makkachin stays on the bed, keeping Victor warm.

Mochi waits, dancing impatiently by the patio door until Yuuri slides it open to let him out into the few feet of space and artificial turf that passes as their back garden on the colony. While the dog relieves himself outside, Yuuri puts the kettle on and finds his way to the bathroom to get dressed. By the time he emerges, Mochi is scratching at the door and the kettle is quietly whistling.

Yuuri fixes a thermos of tea and lets the poor puppy inside, then changes from his slippers to his trainers before grabbing his skate bag.

Here, Yuuri never has to worry what hour he goes to the rink. They practically own it, after all. It had been Victor who helped organize and fund the installation of the rink space, just outside the main colony complex. He’d bribed the politicians with promises of competitions and shows. Although none of those have happened here yet, the colony certainly can’t call it a waste of money—it gets plenty of regular use by the residents, and both Victor and Yuuri often swing in to give free lessons and pointers to anyone interested in learning more.

The texture of the ice here is different, because Victor had insisted they use a natural formation, and the artificial gravity in the rink area trends lower compared to the rest of the colony, but Yuuri’s gotten used to it. He’d probably be dismayed by the differences he’d find if he went back to skating on Earth now. 

Yuuri’s favorite part of skating here isn’t the ice, though, or even how much easier it is on his knees and back. No, his favorite part is the view. Through the crystalline bubble walls that encapsulate the rink, Yuuri can see the landscape of Mars spread out all around him—the flat red earth and distant, jagged mountains, and the morning sky streaked with pink and deep purple, dotted by the twin globes of Phobos and Deimos. 

Though he pauses at a bench to change into his skates, Yuuri laces them by muscle memory, his eyes fixed on the horizon outside as the sun slowly ascends. 

He takes to the ice humming his own song, bits and snatches of what comes into his head, a melody made of the scratch of blades, inspired by the play of brilliant colors outside and bright feelings in his chest. The muse of the sunrise pushes his worries out of mind, and he skates for the joy of it, thrilling at the play of light refracting on the ice beneath him. He may be a bit slower these days, but that only means less pressure to push himself. No one is ever watching anymore, and that’s just fine by him.

Hypnotized by the swirl of light, Yuuri lets time flow around him unimpeded, until at last he comes out of a spin and finds Victor there, elbows planted on the boards. His face creases deeply as he smiles, raising his hand to wave.

“Young man,” Victor calls out when Yuuri’s eyes fall on him, “what’s the name of your coach?”

“Why do you want to know?” Yuuri is a bit winded, but it’s not too bad. They must have the gravity set a bit higher than normal today. “See something you like?”

“No, I need to tell him that he’s letting you get sloppy.”

Yuuri scoffs and skates over, draping his arms on Victor’s shoulders as he croons, “Come on. Be my coach, _Vitya_?”

“Hmm,” Victor raises his eyes to the clear glass ceiling, pretending to mull it over. “Well, I suppose I could make some room in my schedule...” He lowers his voice, as if sharing a secret though no one else is in the room before adding, “You dance across the ice as beautifully as ever, my love.” 

And because Yuuri knows him so well, he knows to close his eyes then, as Victor leans in for a sweet, lingering kiss.

When they part, Yuuri traces Victor’s jawline with his thumb, then the familiar curving lines of his smile at the corners of his lips. “Are you going to join me this morning?” he asks.

“You know I wouldn’t miss it.” Victor holds up his other hand, where his skates are dangling by their laces, brought along for the ride. 

Yuuri glides slowly around the rink, biding time as Victor laces on his skates by watching the final moments of the sunrise, the light spilling gold over the mountains and making the red sand burn bright. At the click of the gate, Yuuri turns to watch his husband step out onto the ice.

And fall.

It’s not the first time Yuuri’s seen Victor fall on the ice, nor is it anywhere near the worst. Victor’s legs simply slip straight out from under him, and he lands with a soft _whump_ on his butt. Something flickers across Victor’s face in that moment that Yuuri can’t place. It’s not shock or pain, not even sadness, and Yuuri senses right away that this fall is different.

Victor wasn’t practicing footwork or spins or risking his ankles doing little waltz jumps to dance out of Yuuri’s grasping hands as they chased one another around the ice. Victor was simply entering the rink, and a split second later, he was on the ground.

Yuuri dashes across the distance between them, sending up a spray of ice when he stops which will surely make the zamboni drivers curse him later. Stooping, he grasps Victor’s upper arm to pull him back to his feet. “Are you okay? Does anything hurt?”

“Only my wounded dignity,” Victor says, brushing the snow from Yuuri’s blades off of his maroon sweatshirt. He laughs it off, but it sounds tight, forced, like he’s talking to the press instead of his husband. 

“Are you sure? Do you want to go get checked out?”

“Really, it’s fine.” Victor squeezes Yuuri’s fingers and manages a smile that’s almost convincing. “I’m just going to sit this one out for now. The universe is telling me not to skate today.” 

Releasing Yuuri’s hand, he steps back off the ice and sits on a nearby bench. Yuuri, still at the boards, watches him lower himself onto the surface and searches for any signs of pain in his movement. 

Rolling his eyes, Victor makes a shooing motion with both hands. “Go, go. Don’t hover. I’m fine. Go skate.”

“I was nearly done for the day anyway,” Yuuri volunteers. “If you’d rather we go back home—”

“I told you to skate,” Victor snaps, scowling. As soon as the words are out, though, he softens, scrubbing at his face with his hand as his tone shifts to entreaty. “Please? It would make me happy, just to watch you a bit longer. I never get tired of the way you move.”

Yuuri nods and tries his best to turn his attention back to the ice. He reaches for his memory of the sunrise, trying to touch that spark of inspiration once again, but he only keeps seeing Victor in his mind—Victor, falling. Victor, his face full of betrayal. 

When Yuuri turns to check on Victor one more time, he finds his husband staring off past the ice, toward the mountains beyond. Alone on the bench, Victor isn’t smiling like he usually would, and he isn’t looking at Yuuri at all.

\- 

Yuuri is loading their breakfast dishes into the cleaner when his datapad pings. He taps the nearest screen, which happens to be on the microwave, enters his personal password, and opens his messages. 

An image of Yuri’s scowling face pops up, and Yuuri hides a smile, as if the other man might see him all the way across the vacuum of space. For someone who isn’t actually related to Yakov Feltsman, Yuri sure resembles him in his old age—though with much nicer hair, which he credits to never having to deal with teenagers, aside from his own kids.

 _We get in at 08:00 the day before_ , the message reads. _Tickets were expensive as hell so you guys better not live long enough to throw another one of these._

Yuuri starts to type a reply, but his thought is interrupted by the sound of claws on the floor and Victor’s crooning, “Yuuuuuri.” He quickly closes the screen before Victor can wander into the kitchen. Victor’s warm hands ruck up the hem of Yuuri’s shirt to find his waist and he buries his nose in Yuuri’s thick grey hair. 

“What are you looking for?” Yuuri asks.

“Food.”

“We just had breakfast.” In answer, Victor nips the back of his neck. Though Yuuri heaves a sigh for theatrics, only the fridge can see him smile. “A shipment of pomegranates came in yesterday. They’re in the bottom drawer.”

With a thrilled little sound, Victor releases him and begins the hunt for snacks. Once he’s distracted, Yuuri retrieves his datapad from the living room charger to respond to Yurio’s message.

The rapid approach of Victor’s birthday also means their fiftieth anniversary is on the horizon. Fifty years traditionally is the _golden_ anniversary, and Yuuri can’t possibly let that slide unremarked. For months now, he’s been secretly planning, though when Victor brought it up Yuuri had requested a quiet night at home and a glass of champagne. 

Under Victor’s nose, he’s instead been coordinating all their family and friends for a surprise party. What could be more appropriate for the two of them, after all, than a big, gold-themed surprise? Yurio and Beka had been the last ones without an arrival date set, and now that they’re sending Yuuri their shuttle information, everything is in place. It’s real. They really made it _fifty years_.

Now that all the pieces are coming together, Yuuri can’t stop smiling. He’s too excited to keep this under wraps, and Victor knows him too well to miss the fact that Yuuri’s suddenly jittery and happy all at once. “I’m going to the rink for a bit,” Yuuri calls, stashing his datapad away and trading it for his skate bag. “Do you want to come?”

Victor sticks his head out of the kitchen, a whole pomegranate in hand. “No, I’m going to stay in this time. I may take the dogs for a walk.”

“Okay.” Yuuri walks over, kissing first Victor’s forehead, then his nose, and then his lips goodbye, though he’ll be gone less than an hour. “If you’re sure?” Victor only nods.

That kills more of Yuuri’s excitement than he’d expected. He leaves the apartment quieter, a little less energetic in spite of the good news. It’s been over a week now since Victor’s tumble at the rink, and he hasn’t come with Yuuri since. Not only is he not skating, but he hasn’t even popped by to watch Yuuri. In the past, that would be unheard of.

It’s not just the rink, either. Victor’s quieter than normal lately, off in his head somewhere Yuuri can’t follow. Even when he’s not with Yuuri, Victor has a book club he’s belonged to since they moved to the colony. He plays chess in the communal areas with anyone who’ll sit down long enough. But this past week, he’s barely left the apartment except to walk the dogs.

When Yuuri gets to the rink, he finds he’s not alone—there’s a whole family already there, the parents guiding their two children around the ice, muffling laughter when they fall. Yuuri smiles and waves to them, but doesn’t engage, taking to his own side of the rink. 

Victor has always dealt with his retirement in a different way than Yuuri has. Though he was eager for a break and some time together, he clearly didn’t feel as much release as Yuuri did when he let competition go. While Yuuri was used to his body changing—weight fluctuating up and down all year, in and out of season—Victor has always struggled more with his appearance and an expectation of perfection he can’t seem to let go.

Yuuri still remembers Victor picking at the corners of his own eyes in the mirror after a bad candid shot surfaced of them in the Kiss and Cry with one of their skaters. _”I don’t know this man,” Victor confessed, pawing at his skin. “Inside, you know, I still feel twenty-five and invincible. Then I go to do the simplest thing, and my body says **no**. The mirror mocks me, and it... hurts.”_

_"I recognize this man," Yuuri said, stepping in close to wrap his arms around Victor's waist—maybe a bit less slim than it once was, but still lovely. Still perfect._

_"Oh? Does he look like a five-time World Champion to you?"_

_"Better. He looks like my husband."_

In these moments, Yuuri does his best to show Victor his support, and his love, but unfortunately he can’t go back in time and eviscerate those reporters, fans, and photographers through the years who made Victor feel like he’d have to meet these crazy expectations forever.

When Yuuri pulls himself from his thoughts, he finds he’s breathing hard. The older of the two children on the ice is watching him, clearly interested, so Yuuri skates over. He adjusts an arm here, demonstrates a little, and watches the young girl mimic him with bright eyes and missing front teeth. Yuuri may not technically be coaching anymore, but that doesn’t mean he’s retired entirely from inspiring the newest generation.

After a brief chat with the girl’s parents, Yuuri wishes them well and leaves them with his contact information, just in case little Marie gets bitten by the skating bug and they need advice on lessons and coaching. They’re grateful, and it puts him in a much better mood as he changes back into his shoes and walks back to the apartment, his thighs and calves radiating a pleasant, mild soreness.

The slight throb in his legs makes it all the more pleasant when he gets back to the apartment and drops his weary body onto the plush sofa. Victor pokes his head in from the bedroom, no doubt hearing the rustle of both dogs as they run to greet Yuuri.

“Welcome back,” he says. “How was your skate?”

“Fine. Good. There’s a new young family in the next section over who came by to try the rink as well.”

“Glad to hear it.” Crossing the living room, Victor bends to kiss Yuuri hello, then lingers, his hand cupping Yuuri’s face, thumb sweeping the rise of his cheekbone. 

“Oh,” Yuuri says when he pulls back, both of them grinning like fools. “What’s that for, hm?”

“I was thinking about you,” Victor murmurs, still so close that his breath ghosts over Yuuri’s wet lips. 

“I wasn’t even gone an hour.”

“Still, I missed you,” Victor says. The hand not caressing Yuuri’s cheek falls to his thigh, clever fingers digging into the muscle there and soothing away the soreness. “Unless you’re too tired—”

“Never too tired for you,” Yuuri insists, tilting his head to kiss Victor again. He puts the weight of a promise into it this time. It’s not entirely accurate, of course. There have been many nights over the years when they were both far too tired for anything energetic. But Yuuri has a hard time ever denying Victor a wish when he kisses like _that_ —like he loves Yuuri, like he wants him, like they’ve just met, drunk at a club and foolish, and they may never see each other after tonight. 

Pulling back from the kiss, Yuuri takes both Victor’s hands in his, and Victor helps pull him to his feet, then across the hall to the bedroom. He trades Yuuri’s hands away in exchange for his waist and tugs him in, even as Yuuri struggles to pull the door closed behind them, shutting out the curious dogs.

The clock is edging toward lunchtime by the time Yuuri rises from bed to open the door again. He’s put on boxers for modesty—as if the dogs care—but Victor doesn’t bother, spread eagle on the bed, all pale skin dotted here and there with darker spots. Once the dogs have clambered inside, Yuuri goes back to the bed, tucking himself against Victor’s side and pillowing his head on his husband’s collarbone. Victor wraps an arm around him in turn, long fingers stroking down the soft curve of Yuuri’s ribs and over his stomach.

It’s cozy, the thermostat set warm so they can both be outside the covers and nude without getting chilly, and Victor always seems to radiate heat. Yuuri nuzzles in, tucking his face into Victor’s neck, and Victor reaches up to pet his silver-threaded hair instead. 

“I’ve been thinking,” Victor says, “maybe it’s time we moved again after all.”

Frowning, Yuuri tries to push himself up, to get a better look at Victor’s expression, but Victor’s fingers tighten on his waist, holding him close. “You mean, to one of the other units?” They _had_ discussed moving to a different part of the colony. If they had a larger apartment with a nicer patio, they’d have the space to get a third dog. 

“No, I was thinking about some of the other colonies—Isidis, maybe? Isabella says they have a lovely retirement community down there.”

Yuuri can’t even begin to process the number of questions he has about this, first and foremost being when Victor spoke to Isabella Leroy and _why_ , considering he still refers to her husband as “Jacob”. More worrying, however, is the broader implication. Isidis, near the equator, is popular with retirees due to its much warmer climate. It’s a new community, and the colony has no ice, natural or otherwise—could Victor really be ready to give up skating entirely?

Victor is still waiting for Yuuri’s reaction, watching him closely from the corner of his eye, and Yuuri folds back into his side. “Let me think about it,” he murmurs, papery lips against the hinge of Victor’s jaw. “I think I need to sleep on it before we make any decisions, but you know I’ll go wherever you need me to be.”

“I know.” Victor’s hand resumes its long, slow strokes over Yuuri’s side, soothing until it stutters, then stops, and Victor’s chest rises and falls more slowly, sinking into a sweet sleep. 

Yuuri holds himself stiff, trying not to stir or to wake his husband, but he doesn’t join him in a nap. Instead, he remains at his side, eyes closed but thoughts whirring, wondering what he can do that could possibly help.

-

Because nothing else in Yuuri’s life can ever run as smoothly as his marriage, he wakes up on the morning of the party to an urgent ping from the colony’s building manager. He reluctantly declines Victor’s invitation to “conserve water” by showering together and rolls over to retrieve his datapad from the bedside table once he hears the water sputter on in the bathroom.

 _Artificial gravity generators malfunctioned overnight_ , the message begins, as if Yuuri didn’t wake up in the middle of the night to the sound of Mochi’s yelps and find the dog hovering in the air, suspended in the middle of a leap onto the bed. _We had to prioritize repairs to living areas so the community room is low on the list. It may not be fixed for another day or two._

“Great,” Yuuri mutters to himself. Makkachin raises her head from the mattress, tilting her head at him, and he gives her a pat. It’s not the end of the world, but it’s still annoying. He’d rented that room months in advance, and while it will be nice to get his deposit back, he doesn’t have a plan B. 

Their apartment is way too small to host all the guests, who have been carefully hiding in their own rented rooms on the other side of the colony since yesterday, and Yuuri can’t think of anywhere else that might be suitable. 

Thankfully, he doesn’t need to think of it alone. _Change of plans,_ he types out to the group chat. _We’re going to need a new room._ There’s only one place he knows of where they can all meet up to plan without Victor barging in and spoiling the surprise. 

_Meet me at the skating rink in an hour,_ he tells the group. A smattering of affirmative responses drift in from the ones who are already awake, and Yuuri sets his screen aside, satisfied. Maybe if they all put their heads together, they can come up with a new idea.

Victor swans out of the bathroom the same way he always has, with a towel wrapped around his head and nothing else, and finds Yuuri already dressed and lacing up his sneakers on the sofa. “What’s the rush?” he asks. “I thought the plan was to stay in today.”

“It is,” Yuuri says, maybe a bit too quickly. “It is. I’m just—I’m going to go for a skate, get some exercise, then we can spend all day in together, just like I promised.”

“Okay.” Victor sounds dubious, his lips a flat line, and Yuuri hoists himself to his feet and right into Victor’s arms. 

He plants a kiss on Victor’s disapproving mouth, then another on his cheek, his nose, his wide forehead, until those lips start to curve once more into that happy, crinkle-eyed smile Yuuri knows so well. “Happy anniversary,” he whispers into Victor’s skin. “I love you so much.”

Then he yelps as a cold, damp hand slips down the back of his leggings to goose him. “I love you too,” Victor says, grinning with triumph.

“Save that for later, okay?” Yuuri laughs as he reaches for his skate bag. It will seem weird if he doesn’t invite Victor along, so he asks to throw him off the scent, hoping for the first time that Victor will say no.

Shaking his head, Victor pulls his towel turban down and drapes it over his shoulder. “No, you go on. One of us has to be responsible and take the dogs out.” 

Yuuri tries not to look too happy to be left alone. He slips out, throws his bag over one shoulder, and hurries through the halls to the rink.

The automatic doors pop open with a _whoosh_ , admitting Yuuri to a room filled with familiar, happy chatter in a smorgasbord of voices and accents. The sight and the sound—so many people he loves gathered together in one place—brings a smile to his face instantly. 

Axel and Loop spot him first and rush over to wrap him in a double hug. “Yuuri, congratulations!” they exclaim in sync, squeezing him so tight he wheezes for breath.

“Thank you,” he coughs when they finally release. “God. You got your father’s strength and your mother’s enthusiasm.”

“You know it,” Axel says with a grin. “Speaking of, Mama and Mari are the only ones not here yet. They were sleeping in, and we decided to let them.”

“And Lutz is sad she couldn’t make it,” Loop adds, “but she’s going to call later on to say hello to everyone.” 

Yuuri nods, unsurprised. Of the three Nishigori women, Lutz had been the one who decided to embrace the idea of big families. She had married young, like her mother, and raised two sets of identical twins. Earlier this week, one of her oldest girls had just made her the first of the triplets to become a grandmother.

That makes Yuuko a _great_ -grandmother, and the idea of that makes Yuuri feel a little faint. He tries to shake it off by stepping away to greet Loop’s son, Bauer. 

All told it takes Yuuri nearly an hour just to make his way around the room and greet each of their friends. It’s amazing how many people care enough to travel all this way for the occasion. Yurio and Otabek are there as promised, along with their youngest daughter, and of course Phichit. Chris has come with Masumi, and Yuuri knows he’ll owe them a favor when their own fiftieth comes up in a couple years. He’s waving good morning to Yuuko and Mari when he finds himself trapped in a three-way hug between Minami and his sons, Oda and Yuuri-kun. No sooner does Yuuri squirm free of their embrace than he’s tugged over into the middle of an argument—fifty years of friendship and Mila and Georgi still can’t agree on anything, even as their wives and daughters try to pull them away from one another. 

Once he’s finally made the rounds and gotten so many back pats that his shoulder is aching, Yuuri claps his hands once to gather everyone’s attention. “Thank you all so much for coming to spend this day with us. It means a great deal. I’m sorry for the sudden change of venue, but I really didn’t know what else to do.” He shrugs, palms up. “If anyone has a suggestion for where I can host you all that _isn’t_ our apartment, I’m all for it.”

For Yuuko, who’s had plenty of practice planning events for a large family, it doesn’t even take a minute of thinking to propose a solution, “Why not here?” she asks, gesturing to the rink and the space around it. “Didn’t Victor practically pay for this room to be built himself? I’m sure the managers won’t mind if we take over for a few hours, considering.”

Yuuri hesitates, biting his lip through others’ murmurs of agreement. It’s not his place to disclose what Victor’s been dealing with lately, so he obfuscates. “I’m not sure Victor would appreciate that,” Yuuri says carefully.

But Mari scoffs. “Of course he will. You know he was going to drag us all over here from the community room and make us skate together anyway.”

“Mari’s right,” Yurio says, and Otabek nods, standing beside his husband with arms folded across his chest. “This is the largest space you have, anyway. We can just set up here.”

“Okay!” Axel announces, clapping her hands for attention. Lutz is already reaching up, twisting her long, greying hair back into a bun and out of her way. “Who all brought decorations? Bring those over to the benches, and Lutz and I will organize that part.”

“I can do snacks,” Mari volunteers. “Did anyone bring food?”

At that point, Yuuri relents entirely. With Mari and the Nishigori women all vying for control of the party planning, there’s not much left for him to do but sit back and watch the others rush around the room. There are enough busy hands—and enough younger people towed along by their parents—that the preparations move along swiftly, and soon Yuuri can see the start of a transformation: gold and silver streamers hanging along the walls, banners, and even a ridiculously large photo Yuuri’s never seen before, of himself and Victor dancing together in matching suits at the banquet in Barcelona. Yuuri’s head rests on Victor’s shoulder, and Victor’s nose is buried in his hair, his eyes overflowing with happiness.

“I wanted to print out the Sochi pictures instead,” Yurio admits, “but Beka said it would be rude to remind you that you used to be hot.”

“Not true,” Otabek mutters under his breath after Yuri walks away. “As soon as Yuuko sent out a message asking for photos, Yura sent her that one. I didn’t even know he had it.”

Once most of the preparations are complete, Phichit ruffles Yuuri’s hair. “You should go fetch Victor now,” he says with a wink. “That way you have plenty of time to get distracted before you come back.”

“We’re not newlyweds anymore,” Yuuri says, flushing, as if he didn’t already turn Victor down twice this morning. “More like we need the extra time to get over here because we walk so slow now.”

“Whatever you want to tell the public is fine. I’ll keep your little secret.”

Phichit isn’t alone in shooing Yuuri out of the room, urging him to go retrieve Victor, so he levers himself up from the benches and makes his way back down the hall to their apartment. Victor has been so hesitant to come to the rink lately that Yuuri isn’t sure how he’s going to ever change Victor’s mind, but he’ll have to find a way. In the end, they can’t have an anniversary party with half the feted couple missing.

The door of their apartment slides open at Yuuri’s touch, and a rush of cold air spills into the hallway to greet him. Victor is on the sofa, swaddled in blankets, head lolling to one side and eyes closed in sleep. At the sound of the door, he jerks awake, blinking at Yuuri for a moment before he remembers where he is and a soft, sleepy smile comes to roost on his features. 

“Oh, you’re back already. I must have drifted off.” He sits up, shifting under the mound of blankets and venturing one hand out into the cold to pick up one of the two mugs resting on the coffee table. “Ah, it’s gone cold,” he pouts.

“What was it?” Yuuri asks, kicking off his shoes before crossing the room to join him. The TV is on, paused on a blur of color that Yuuri can’t identify.

“Cocoa. I turned the temperature in the apartment down so we could enjoy it, but now it’s too cold.”

Yuuri checks the other mug and finds the ceramic cool to the touch. He picks it up, then pauses to brush Victor’s hair back from his face. “I can heat them back up, if you want. Were you watching something?”

“I was waiting for you.” Victor yawns and stretches. From her bed by the TV, Makka briefly raises her head to check on them, then resumes her own nap, using her little brother as a pillow. “It’s Barcelona—the exhibition. I thought we could watch together.”

Yuuri’s heart hurts with how much he loves Victor sometimes. After so many years, they’ve settled into a routine, and most days love is simply all around him, so quiet he can’t hear it unless he goes looking, but every once in a while love winds up and punches him right in the chest, and he’s twenty-three and stupid all over again. 

The party can wait. He’s going to spend a quiet moment with his husband right now, doing what _Victor_ has planned. After all, Victor has an excellent track record of choreographing things Yuuri will love. 

He takes a second to reheat their cocoa, then returns with the cups and settles in under the blankets, curling into Victor’s side. Once again, Victor doesn’t disappoint. He’s made it cold enough in the room that cuddling under the blankets with a hot drink is the perfect solution. His hair still smells like orchids from his shampoo, and once Yuuri’s fully nestled into place and sipping his cocoa, Victor tells the television to start.

It’s hard to imagine the kid in the blue costume on TV is really Yuuri. There are so many things that version of him didn’t know, didn’t understand yet. There were so many things he worried about, few of which ever mattered in the end. Although Yuuri recognizes that face as the one he sees in the mirror, the person inside has changed so much.

Then Victor joins him on the ice, resplendent in his pink and silver, and Yuuri recognizes himself once again—the look on his face as Victor reaches out to him has never changed. 

Yuuri rests his head on Victor’s chest as they watch the rest of the performance, half-closing his eyes and leaning into it as Victor combs his fingers through Yuuri’s hair. 

All too soon, the video ends, and Victor wisely stops it before Yurio’s exhibition. If Yuuri has to watch “Welcome to the Madness” right now, there’s no way he’ll be able to keep a straight face while talking to Yuri and Otabek at the party.

“Come skate with me,” Yuuri whispers in a rush, timing it while they’re still in the warm lull of blankets and happy memories. “Please? For our anniversary.”

If Yuuri weren’t cuddled so close to Victor, he might have missed his reaction, but pressed tight against him Yuuri can feel the way he tenses at the question, and he can sense Victor’s hesitation, though he turns his face away. 

It hurts, and Yuuri doesn’t want to force anything, but everyone is waiting for them. _One more try_ , he thinks, and asks again: “You don’t even need to get on the ice, just come with me? You can watch me from the boards.” He tries to swap the pleading edge on his words for something flirty instead. “Come be my coach?”

Victor chuckles lightly, shaking his head, though his muscles don’t relax a bit. “You play dirty,” he says. “Okay. Okay, I’ll come watch at least.”

Thrilled, Yuuri squeezes him, then pushes himself up from the sofa. Victor’s skate bag is still by the door, though dust has gathered in the folds of the canvas these past weeks. Yuuri picks it up, along with his own. 

“Yuuri—”

“I said you don’t have to,” Yuuri interrupts. “That doesn’t mean you won’t _want_ to, once we get over there. Imagine if you changed your mind and had to skate on rented boots.” Victor wrinkles his nose at that thought and doesn’t protest again. He takes Yuuri’s bag, while Yuuri holds on to his, and they walk through the halls, hands clasped, back to the rink.

As they approach the final stretch, Yuuri can see shadows moving beyond the brushed glass door. Someone must be on lookout for them to come back, because one of the dark forms darts away as they get closer. Yuuri only holds Victor’s hand tighter, hoping he won’t notice.

The door springs open as they reach it, and there’s a thunderous shout of, “SURPRISE!”

Even Yuuri is a little shocked by the vision beyond the door. While he was out sipping cocoa with Victor, the rest of the gathering had been hard at work decorating even further. The room is so brilliant with gold, it’s nearly blinding—gold streamers, confetti, balloons, table cloths, cups, plates—if Yuuri had left them alone a moment longer, the ice would probably be spray painted gold.

It’s _too much_ , and the minute Victor sees it, his face lights up brighter than the golden disco ball hanging over the ice. “What?” Victor gasps, hands over his mouth as his eyes dart from the decorations to their friends. Tears well up, and he chokes out a refrain. “ _What?_ Yuuri—?”

“Surprise?” Yuuri offers with a sheepish shrug. “I’m sorry I had to trick you, but it is our _golden_ anniversary, and since I only managed to win you four World’s medals in the end—”

“You won the _Olympics_ ,” Victor interrupts, fierce as ever in his defense. “I told you, that counts as two.”

“Well, I still think I owed you one.”

“Yuuri…” Victor finally pries his hands from his own face and reaches out. Cupping Yuuri’s cheeks, he pulls him in for a long, thorough, and enthusiastic kiss. Someone hoots. Yuuri hears a camera click loudly. 

“You can make out later,” Yurio complains, coming over with his shoulders squared, as if he’s prepared to _pry_ them apart if he must. “You guys live around the damn corner! Some of us traveled days to get here, you ungrateful—”

He’s cut off when Victor abruptly releases Yuuri, flinging his arms around Yurio instead, then ruffling his thick whitish hair. “Yurioooo,” Victor coos. “Don’t worry, I still love you too.”

Yuri grumbles and flails, but it’s all an act. He’s blushing something fierce and grinning broadly the whole time, and the rest of the party takes that as their cue to close in and reach out for their own hugs.

The party trots along at a merry clip after that. There are drinks, cake, and snacks. There are hugs and laughter. There are in-jokes and references being thrown about that are older than some of the party guests. Everyone mills around the tables and benches, enjoying one another’s company. It’s been years since they were all together like this, and Yuuri can tell he’s not the only one in the room thinking they should do it more often.

“This needs to be an annual thing,” Phichit says at one point, and Yuuri has to agree. They don’t get together nearly enough anymore, with everyone not just in different countries, but in some cases on different planets. 

“At the very least,” Yuuri murmurs to himself, “maybe some sort of group chat…” He’s still thinking about it when Yurio’s voice interrupts his thoughts.

“Okay, we’re at a goddamn skating rink with a bunch of professional skaters and _no one_ is going to fucking skate?”

A chuckle runs through the room, and Chris calls out, “Put your money where your mouth is, then. Weren’t you a skater too?” And Yuri goes red, hackles up until Otabek and the kids pull him aside. 

Despite the drama, his announcement has an effect. Guests begin to drift over to the A.I.-operated rental counter, paying for boots since most of them didn’t bring any along. Yuuri glances over where Victor is standing with Georgi and his family, checking for any hint of reaction. Victor doesn’t exactly look comfortable—his smile is a little pained—but that might simply be the result of whatever Georgi is talking about at the moment. 

“You too, Katsudon,” Yurio yells. He _did_ bring his own skates, the weirdo, and now is one of the first guests on the ice, along with his daughter Lilia and Axel’s son, Bauer. “Guests of honor aren’t excluded, and you still owe me a rematch.”

“It’s been over forty years,” Yuuri says, laughing. “I think that might be cheating, taking advantage of your long-retired elders in such a way.”

“Scared I’ll beat you again?”

Yuuri is already pulling on his boots. “You wish, kitten.” The playful taunting is deliberate. It’s fun, and it’s normal for them, but it’s also a distraction. If Yuuri is bickering with Yurio, he’s hoping no one will notice Victor avoiding the ice.

He joins the others already skating, playing low-key games with Yuri and his family as more and more of the guests put on boots and join them on the ice. As the rinkside area empties and the rink begins to fill, Yuuri keeps one eye on Victor. The more guests decide to skate, the more obvious Victor seems for choosing to sit on a bench and talk with Mari instead.

Soon, everyone is on the ice but those two, and then it’s only a matter of time before someone notices. Unsurprisingly, it’s Axel who starts to chide him from the rink. “What are you doing, leaving your husband to skate alone on your anniversary? Get over here!”

“But then Mari will be all alone.” Victor shrugs, as if he’s making a great sacrifice by talking to his sister-in-law. “What kind of host would I be?”

“Believe me, I’m more than used to it,” Mari drawls, unhelpfully. “This is what I get for hanging out with my little brother’s friends too much.” 

“Come on,” Lutz calls, joining her sister at the boards. “Yuuri’s waiting for you!”

As Yuuri is considering whether or not to step in, Victor sighs and shakes his head. “Okay, okay,” he relents. “Hmm, after fifty years you’d think he’d be used to it.” He grabs his boots out of their bag and puts them on, shaking his head and muttering complaints and jokes the whole time. He puts on such a good show, Yuuri doubts anyone else notices his hands trembling as he ties the laces.

With his boots in place, Victor stands, and Axel practically scoops him up. She has a hand in his, pulling him toward the gate, and then her sister catches his other hand. Yuuri watches it all unfold from the ice, muscles tense. He may not move as quick as he once did, but he’s pretty sure if anything happens to Victor he’ll get one of those wild surges of superhuman strength that people talk about. Yuuri could absolutely lift a car if Victor needed him to—or even win the Olympics.

He can see the moment Victor holds his breath, right before he takes that first step onto the ice, and he can feel it, because Yuuri holds his breath at that moment too. 

Victor’s first blade comes down, and then, unremarkably, the other. Axel and Loop still have hold of both his hands between them, and they don’t seem to notice anything amiss. Victor looks down at the ice beneath him. He raises his head, meeting Yuuri’s eyes across the room, and he grins.

Yuuri’s first instinct is to go, grab him, but the triplets have other plans. They pass him off to Chris, and then Mila and Sara. Yurio interrupts, challenging Victor over some long-forgotten slight, and Otabek is forced to drag him away. Yuuri listens with only half an ear, nodding along to whatever Minami is saying to him, and watches Victor get passed around the room as if it’s part of an elaborate group dance. He moves across the ice from one friend to the next until he’s relaxed, laughing, calm. All that worry and it was… nothing, just some freak occurrence. Victor is more than steady on his feet, and he gets caught showing off, out of breath by the time he spins away from Phichit and Chris and nearly collides with Yuuri’s arms.

“Oh, hello there,” Victor breathes, eyes dancing. His hands are warm, and his grip strong on Yuuri’s forearms where he’s caught him. “Do I know you?”

“You can’t fool me like you do Yurio,” Yuuri answers through his own bright grin. “I know you’re not that forgetful.”

“Oh no. You caught me.” Swaying in closer, Victor wraps his arms around Yuuri, and Yuuri embraces him in return. Someone—Yuuri suspects Otabek—has put on music, and it’s all too easy for their hug to become a dance. 

They barely move from one another, gently swaying on the ice like teenagers at prom, fresh and enamored. Something brushes Yuuri’s ear, and he realizes Victor is singing—no, humming. It’s “Stammi Vicino”, and Yuuri’s hand drifts from Victor’s shoulders down to his lower back. It’s not prom, after all. It’s their wedding dance now. Yuuri begins to hum too, harmonizing with a tune he knows as well as his own name, and then, abruptly Victor stops moving. 

“Wow,” he whispers. “Yuuri, you really did stay close to me and never leave.” 

Yuuri’s grip on him only gets tighter. “Of course I did,” he answers, “and I never will.”


End file.
